


To cleanse, rinse (but don't repeat)

by Chyrstis



Series: You'll be okay, I promise [1]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 20:23:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19483333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chyrstis/pseuds/Chyrstis
Summary: “Funny, I’ve been running ragged out here so far, and you haven’t found me yet.”“Now things are different,”John said, intent coloring every word.“I want to.”---The Deputy starts to make progress in John’s region, and with progress comes consequence.





	To cleanse, rinse (but don't repeat)

**Author's Note:**

> Firing up this game and actually playing through it has been a fun challenge. Mainly, because for every mission finished and in-game milestone hit, I can’t help but want to write about it. 
> 
> Here's to the first of hopefully more than a few ideas focusing on this series! I didn't want to do a straight copy of the sequence itself, but some of those lines were A+.

She’d been warned about this. Warned to approach the Woodson’s Pig Farm slowly and quietly, without much of a sound.

That meant no theatrics. No warning shots, no driving through in a burning truck in the hopes of bowling someone over, and certainly no pushing through the brush only to get snagged on every branch on the way through.

Sadly, the Pastor didn’t know exactly the person he was asking this of.

Jerome had looked at her with such an intense expression of hope she’d nearly tripped over her next few words in response. And even now, as Hana sat on her haunches holding up a set of binoculars, she still wasn’t sure how to even approach this situation.

Two hostages could be seen ahead, both kneeling with their arms bound behind them. The property had become a small outpost for the county’s growing resistance, but holding each place proved to be a bitter fight, and judging from the scene ahead, they’d all but lost it.

Still, they were alive, and that still counted for something. They were separated, but one of them had two men hanging close by, both arguing fiercely over the next shift of watch. One cultist had a rifle, which was pretty typical of the Peggies she’d run into throughout the county.

The other, however? A goddamn flamethrower.

_Great. Positively effing great._ This was not going to be easy, or quiet, and if she played her cards wrong, she was going to end up extra crispy at that. Worse yet, the people waiting for help would be, and she wasn’t keen on them being at the mercy of her questionable attempts at sneaking.

Still, she had to move at some point. Putting the binoculars down, she swallowed hard and took a tentative step forward.

Her foot rolled down over a twig, snapping it.

She shifted. It broke further.

Biting her lip in frustration, she heard someone call out to her. Whoever it was had ears to be envied, because she was still a good thirty to forty feet out, and the damn stick hadn’t been _that_ loud.

The next few minutes were going to count, and as she raised her rifle, she started counting to ten. 

_Ten. Nine. Eight._

She crept forward, keeping her aim trained on them.

_Seven. Six. Five._

The man with the rifle moved towards the dirt path leading out towards her.

_Four._

She slowed her breaths, going for calm. Needing any kind of calm, contained focus.

_Three._

The tremors from being forced to sit still and wait threatened to ruin everything.

_Two._

She wouldn’t let it.

_One._

She fired and the shot found its mark, hitting him in the neck. Grasping at the wound, the man fell to his knees, and she fired again to silence him before running full-tilt towards the property.

This wasn’t exactly smart or calculated. But surprise was a viable tactic too, and she took advantage of it before panic was able to set in. She sliced through the bonds of the woman in front of her in record time, swearing under her breath all the while, and handed off her spare handgun before booking it to the next person.

This one she dragged up and off of the ground towards cover behind the nearby shed. Bullets pelted the wood, tearing through it as they tried to tuck themselves behind it, but the small structure wasn’t going to last much longer. 

Helping to undo the man’s bonds, she told him to stay put, ducking around the opposite side. The Peggie she’d missed before redoubled his efforts to hit something the minute he caught movement, letting loose a spray that had her jumping back. But he had to reload at some point, and she waited for just enough of a gap in the shooting to risk it.

Taking a potshot at his midsection, she aimed higher on the shot after and nearly whooped when he went down.

_That’s two. How many more are we looking at here?_

Scattered gunshots went off in the distance, but when no one else ran in with guns blazing, she left cover to investigate herself. The SMG on the ground went to her newly freed friend, and after nodding at each other they both circled the house. Part of it had caught fire – courtesy of Mr. Blaze-It still being active – and she peeked through the charred window.

It gave a clear view into what used to be the bathroom, broken glass and ceramic fragments littered everywhere. Angling her head, however, she saw something shift to her right in the room. A person was crouching by the open doorway to the rest of the house, their face drained of all color, and Hana quickly held a finger to her lips when they noticed her.

_I’m here to help,_ she mouthed, hoping they could understand her.

The blank stare she received wasn’t promising, but they nodded after a few beats. She crept closer to the window, and when it seemed clear, hoisted herself up and into the room.

Heavy footsteps echoed ahead, each falling one by one as the cultist kept on moving, but they weren’t coming any closer. She crouched down low and kept her rifle close as she crept into the hall. From here, she could see a figure ahead in the living room, the light traveling over the large propane tank strapped to his back. Moving to the wall bordering the outside of it, she swallowed against the dryness in her mouth and waited.

A small peek around the corner was all she needed now, but was it clear…? She poked her head out, too curious not to.

The masked cultist looked her dead in the eye and she winced. “Aw, hell.”

Flames exploded out, catching everything within range of her on fire, and she barely made it back into cover as a wave of searing heat came with it. The wall wasn’t going to last like this. Hell, _she_ wasn’t going to last like this, and she racked her brain for options. She was still looking for decent ones when she settled for quick and dirty, popping the pin off of the lone grenade by her side.

The angle was odd, but the second the flames stopped bursting forth, she lobbed the grenade directly at his feet and dove into the bathroom. 

It went off, shaking the foundation as the proximity made her ears ring. Smoke flowed into the room, obscuring everything, and she tugged the checkered bandana hanging around her neck up and over her nose before creeping back out.

Two shots finished the job after that. The woman she’d freed earlier stood above the man on the ground, handgun at the ready, and lowered it only when she saw her waiting nearby.

“Clear?” Hana asked.

She nodded. “Clear.”

* * *

Up until the last few days, the group at the farm had been a team of eleven, holding down the property as others kept watch on the roads for any survivors or convoys. One of them, Gloria, told her they’d been particularly happy about stumbling across a truck loaded up with produce, and had planned on stashing it until they could safely get it to Fall’s End.

It didn’t last the night. John’s people had come in, commandeered the truck and nearly razed the property trying to flush them out. Those they didn’t kill outright they’d rounded up, taking them to wherever the Seeds needed them most.

The few that remained had been lucky, but that didn’t change the looks they traded with each other as they gathered up any remaining ammo and supplies.

A pack of cigarettes rested on the remains of a desk nearby, and Hana made a beeline straight for it to fish a cigarette out. It’d been too long, and after the last fifteen minutes of playing touch and go with the cult she was a mix of grateful and desperate. Lighting it off of the dying flames of the singed carpet, she stood up and took a long drag, exhaling the smoke in a short puff.

The sound of static at her hip nearly made her drop it, however. A voice came in over the radio, one that wasn’t Dutch’s.

_“Tut-tut, Deputy.”_

She held the radio up, confused at first, but didn’t immediately respond.

_“How bold. With fire and flames, you are hardly a figure that can stand to be ignored for long, aren’t you?”_

“John.” For a few seconds she froze completely, wondering how the hell he’d found her, or the frequency she was on. “Guess this is as good of an intro as any. Short of that lovely video testimonial.”

The large ‘Yes’ sign covered with lights as he raised his hands up to frame it, wasn’t hard to forget. Neither was the sight of Hudson. She was alive, but she was with him, and there was no telling how long that was going to last.

_“Ah, I see. While you may have watched it, I don’t believe you’ve taken any of my words to heart. We all sin. We all revel in it, and at times savor it. What I offer you and all others is a release. A chance to face it, shed it, and become greater for it. To scrub the soul free of all that would weigh it down.”_

_Scrub the soul? Oh, geez._ “A, you’re not getting any of your brand of soul-grade Scrubbing Bubbles near me, and B, have you actually ever stopped to listen to the words coming out of your mouth?”

_“It’s a gift. One I’ll share freely with any that will listen.”_

_“_ And those that won’t?”

_“Like you, Deputy?”_ he replied, his tone shifting. _“Well, you seem to require more direct intervention. Don’t fight it. Be cleansed. Welcome it freely. It’s a beautiful thing, not without pain, but allow me to help. To guide you as we work towards something greater. My people are coming for you regardless, but if you come forward freely this can be a celebration. A confession.”_

She laughed. “I’m going to have to give that a hearty pass, hon. Group confessions and the whole navel gazing thing’s really just not my bag.”

_“A shame. I think we could come to a better understanding of one another.”_

“Understanding? What the _fuck_ could we possibly share during your little kumbaya session that could help us come to a better understanding of each other?”

_“Plenty of things. You may be surprised at just how much we may have in common with one another. But that’s another discussion to be had later once you’ve been delivered to me safely. I would tell you not to run, but…”_

“Funny, I’ve been running ragged out here so far, and you haven’t found me yet.”

_“Now things are different,”_ John said, intent coloring every word. _“I want to.”_

“Good, because I fucking dare you to.” She shoved the radio back in her pack, and spat at the ground. “Prick.”

Thankfully no one was nearby to catch that exchange, but within seconds her radio crackled to life again, and a familiar voice picked up. _“Shit, kid, that’s not a good sign.”_

Judging from the bitter tone Dutch’s laughter took on – and the entire conversation that preceded it – she had to agree. “I’d ask you to be gentle, but I think I already have a good idea of what you’re going to say.”

_“You’ve officially pissed off John Seed. I’d congratulate you on royally pissing in his cornflakes too, but that usually only leads to one thing.”_

“What?”

_“_ _He’s going to work over the entire county searching for you, and won’t stop until you’re found._ _To fight that, lay low and keep moving. People vanish for less, and like hell do we want to lose you to that son-of-a-bitch.”_

And she’d just dared him to do it at that. _Fucking A._ “…Copy that, and thanks for the heads up. I’m not going anywhere, anytime soon. Deputy, out.”

Making her way back to the outside of the farm, she ground the last of her cigarette under the heel of her boot and tried to shrug it off. John was miles away, if she had to guess. Hiding out in a location conveniently close enough for radio contact, but…no. Though he’d likely try in a day or so, he wasn’t about to roll in with his men to swoop her up like it was nothing.

Her skin still prickled at the thought, however, and she rubbed at her arms until the sensation left. After getting the others settled safely in the only truck left running on the farm, she felt the last of the lingering tension melt away.

Jumping into the driver’s seat, she radioed Jerome. “Hey, Pastor? Good news incoming from the farm. I’ve got a few new faces inbound, and we’re all eager to raise hell.” She paused and wanted to smack herself. “For the, uh, the greater good, of course.”

_“Message heard loud and clear, Deputy. Glad to hear you’re all on your way back, but watch the roads closely. Each step we take we will be watched, and much as we want to change this, you won’t be safe out in the open for long.”_

“Don’t go and jinx me now. I’m running high from a good luck streak.”

_“Well, you should revel in some regained hope. Just don’t take it for granted. See you all soon, and may His light guide you along the way.”_

“Yeah,” she muttered to herself. “We’ll see about that.”

She forced a smile at those with her, and got the truck going after a few turns of the key.

It was far enough from Fall’s End that they were sure to pass by any cult convoys if they took the main roads, but with a few detours they could make it work. Take a few of the less-traveled paths, or any shortcuts that the others knew. She’d make it work. Somehow, someway.

“Deputy? Deputy, look!”

She snapped out of it, looking out at the road where they were pointing. It was difficult to see up ahead, but the white objects on the road started to take on more detail, until it became quite clear what they were driving straight into.

A roadblock. Right into their eager, waiting arms.

“ _Motherfucker._ Everyone, hold on tight!” Banking the truck to the left, she careened straight through a nearby fence, the boards shattering as they plowed through it, and gave as much gas to the old truck as it could take.

The men at the roadblock up ahead scattered, running to their vehicles, and she nearly bit through her lip when they roared over a nasty bump. Those in the back held on for dear life, and it was only going to get harder out in the field until they were back on the pavement again.

That’s when a loud horn rose above all of the noise surrounding them, and another two trucks came roaring into view from the rear.

_Shit, shit, shit, shit!_

Trucks were not her forte. Driving straight through brush and debris was not her forte either. Things had gone south, faster than she thought they could, and with one look at the people riding with her, time was ticking down and she didn’t have much of a choice.

“Hey, take the wheel!”

Gloria gave her a panicked look as Hana threw open the door and bailed, jumping out onto the grass. She’d killed the speed just enough to not make this straight up idiotic to attempt, but that didn’t soften the impact as she rolled and came to a stop. The truck with the survivors kept on going, veering off towards the road, but the cult trucks were still fixed on her.

Scrambling to get to her feet, she lit a stick of dynamite and threw it towards the nearest truck. It swerved, trying to avoid it, and she snuck a glance over her shoulder before the ground exploded beneath it.

Shots pelted the ground, more and more of them coming as she kept moving. _Just gotta get to the woods ahead. Just gotta get to the woods ahead…!_

A sharp sting hit her right shoulder blade. Two more hit her in the back, and everything slowed to a standstill, her legs, her arms, and even her breath. She tumbled towards the ground with stars in her eyes, her limbs like lead weights.

That’s when it finally settled over her. Bliss. Tranquil bliss. She didn’t need to move. She didn't need to worry about the work boots making their way towards her. 

All she needed was this.

* * *

She used to love the water. Used to head down to the local pool and sneak in after hours to swim the entire length of it, calmed by the lights glowing just under the water below. It was an escape, one that she longed for whenever she and her mother would find herself in a new town, or a new state, and couldn’t spend another second waiting to see how long it would take for them to move this time.

One night when she was older and living with her mom down south, she’d received a call from one of the few people she’d known in town. Callie, a friend from her bio class, had 'borrowed' her older brother’s car. She’d picked them all up - along with enough liquor and beer to guarantee they'd get shit for it - and drove them down to the beach.

It was late, and feeling buzzed, she’d dared Callie to swim out with her past the docks to see how far they could go. It was partly the alcohol, partly a silly crush, but she’d been thrilled for her to say yes, and both had run to the surf as fast as they could go. They made it pretty far, adrenaline making her push her arms and legs hard as they paddled on, and her vision started to fade out.

It came back when she had just sunk below the waves, the water near-black. She flailed, trying to push herself up only to feel the current yank her down, her lungs burning as she watched Callie pass by above.

The world went black again, her muscles tensing and failing as her panic grew, and she couldn’t reach it. Not the light up above, or anyone that would find her.

She came to on the beach, convulsing as she woke up to a sea of faces and pain lancing through her chest. Dead to the world, she’d been lost for a good two to three minutes before being resuscitated. She'd always hesitated after that. Thought long and hard before diving into any body of water that threatened to rise up and over her head.

Now, she wasn’t sure where she was. Only that she was floating. Something holding her in place.

When she opened her eyes, the world above was muffled and muted. Twinkling lights danced as everything moved in slow motion, and when she tried to inhale, it all came roaring back. The weight of the water surrounding her. The movement above. The pressure keeping her down.

_Help. Help, I can’t – I can’t –_ Her lost breath escaped her as her throat constricted.

That was when the figures floating above shifted. She was hefted up, and the minute she broke the surface of the water, she coughed and hacked out as much as she could. Two sets of hands were on her, and they forced her to stand on unsteady legs. Her wrists stung, strapped together with a zip-tie, and every time she clenched her hands, they dug further into her skin, rubbing it raw. Nothing else seemed to cut through the fog clouding her brain, and she clung to the sensation for dear life.

Her teeth chattered, every part of her soaked to the bone as they moved her along, and others joined them on the same path. They were restrained like her, walking with a cultist at their backs, but all were heading towards the same point. Towards the stark, white light.

A figure ushered them forward, and as Hana drew closer her breath caught in her throat. John had been speaking this whole time, blessing each as they passed by, a white book held in his other hand, and she tried to dig her heels into the rocky bank below, but couldn’t.

He turned to face her directly, and handed the book to one of the men by her side. She waited for him to administer his ‘blessing’, but when he raised his hand, it was to hold them in place.

“Stop,” he said, eyes set on her. “Not this one. This one still needs to be cleansed.”

He was on her before she could say anything to stop it.

The water surged up to engulf her, and she spasmed, her legs kicking out as her arms twisted. His hands gripped her shoulders tight and she wanted to scream. Not here. Not like this.

Her vision swam, an ugly, pulsing smear when she was dragged back up, and she rocked on her feet. Fell forward as her skin prickled, then burned. Every inch of her was on fire, cutting through the bone-deep chill that had nearly done her in as threads of light danced in the corners of her vision. Everything soon came into clear focus, however. Focus aimed forward, at John.

His grip hadn’t loosened. If anything, it was starting to bruise. The smile on his face didn’t reach his eyes, and the dissatisfaction came off of him in waves.

“You missed a spot,” she rasped, her lips curling into a sneer. He shoved her back towards the water, his own teeth bared, and she braced for it.

“John!”

He stopped abruptly, letting her regain her footing. Just over John’s shoulder she saw Joseph, standing tall. Clad in a white collared shirt and dark vest, he was back to the image she’d been met with in videos. The Father, watching, waiting, and as of right now no closer than she would ever want him.

“Do you mock the cleansing, John?”

John shifted in place, but didn’t turn towards Joseph or try to meet his eyes. “No, Joseph.”

The next few words she struggled to reconcile with the amount of emotion used to deliver them. “You have to love them. Do not let your sin color your actions towards them.”

Hana’s head swam as he continued to address John, but before long, Joseph asked for her directly. Beckoned her closer as they delivered her straight to him.

And just like at the church, he held his hands out to her and waited. 

She couldn’t resist. Couldn’t push back against whatever lingered in her system, and knew her face was twisted into a scowl. That was the only defense she had left, and she prayed no one could see what was really twisting inside of her.

Once she was close enough, Joseph rested both hands on her shoulders and drew in closer. He spoke to her about salvation, about how her presence here was far from a mistake. Not by fate, but by holy intervention. God’s grace. God’s will.

“You’ve been given a gift,” he intoned, his touch threatening to burn her. “A precious one. It is up to you to decide whether to embrace it, or cast it aside.”

He let her go after that, and she let out a shaky breath through her clenched teeth. Turning towards John, she watched as Joseph laid a hand on his shoulder, speaking to him in the same calm, steady tone as her before coming to rest his forehead against John’s. It was a comforting gesture that seemed damn near alien compared to the cruelty she’d seen from him previously.

The words Joseph had to share with John, however, didn’t seem to share the same sentiment. “This one will reach the Atonement. If this does not come to pass, the Gates of Eden will close to you, John. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Joseph,” he replied.

There no anger there, or disappointment. None that she could clearly read, at least. Only acceptance in what he was being told to do without question, and she watched him long after Joseph left.

Clarity eventually came back to him, the look in his eyes no longer thousands of miles away, and John centered all of it directly on her.

“You will confess. Any sin, no matter how petty, small, or insignificant, I will pull them from you. All of them until none remain. Maybe then you’ll be worthy of atonement.”

That was the moment the two men standing nearby took her by the arms, dragging her off to join the others. That didn’t stop her from looking straight at him as she left. She held eye contact, determined not to sway once until a hand on the back of her head forced her to, jerking her attention to the path in front of her.

Ahead the vans waited, and there was no telling where they planned to take them to next. Only to wherever John wanted them most, leaving her with an entire trip to figure that out.

And if she guessed wrong? She'd find out soon enough.

* * *

Jerome’s face was the first thing to greet her after the crash. The van had crumpled in on itself, nearly crushing them all as it careened off of the road. She was barely coming back to herself when the doors to the back opened, and when Jerome reached for her, the relief hit her just as hard as the last few bumps had.

This was a debt Hana knew she’d struggle to repay, but she’d do so gladly.

From the farm, to the lake, to the van, she’d wondered when it would actually stop. When she’d have a chance to let it all sink in so she could process what was happening.

As she climbed into a helicopter after somehow winning a mortar fight against the Peggies, she didn’t know if this moment was going to give her the chance either. The adrenaline rush of it all faded away the further she drifted away from that place, leaving her feeling more like a living bruise than a person.

But it all came surging back the minute she caught the giant sign lurking up in the mountains.

John could go fuck himself. With a long and rusty rake, at that. That was too close, too soon. She’d dared him to go for it, and he hadn’t needed any encouragement at all. A cold spike ran through her, and she pushed it back as she dug into her rising anger instead.

Yes. That was exactly what she needed. Not fear. Not panic. Just a sliver of pure, unadulterated rage.

No one was even remotely in her airspace at the moment, but if they had been, they would’ve heard the tail-end of a long, uninterrupted scream.

Her hands were still shaking at the controls when she came back down, and she took in a deep breath. That had been her first real brush with any of Joseph’s Heralds, and a part of her wondered if they’d all do the same thing once pushed. Push back, and move to drown her while they were at it.

It was far from over, and wouldn’t be for a while, but she took the moment to herself for what it was; time to focus and come back stronger.

For the county’s sake and hers, she had to.


End file.
